


we are captains of the sky

by sleeplessmiles



Series: carry your world { emmy 'verse } [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emmy Fitzsimmons - Freeform, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward and Fitz decide they're going to build Emmy a treehouse.</p>
<p>The decision is the easy part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are captains of the sky

**Author's Note:**

> I caved. I wrote kidfic. I was complicit in creating an entire kidfic UNIVERSE, in fact. 
> 
> I should be more apologetic about this than I am.
> 
> This one's for Ali, who has been incredibly patient with me for an incredibly long time.

Parenting, Jemma had learned, was all about picking your battles. 

Growing up an only child as she had, this hadn’t really been as much of an issue for her parents. They’d had to pick their sticking points with Jemma, naturally; for example, they would turn a blind eye whenever she'd stay up late, reading under the covers, but she was under very strict rules regarding what her parents liked to call her 'impromptu experiments.'

But one thing with which her parents never had to contend, however, was a large, ever-present family.

With so many people so directly involved in her daughter's life, Jemma had found increasingly that she had to pick her battles with not only her daughter, but everyone else, too. The difference between a fairly benign idea and one that would rapidly snowball into an all-encompassing monster was incredibly subtle, but if she judged poorly, the results would be disastrous. Quite literally the difference between 'yeah, it was a pretty quiet afternoon, we just messed around on my laptop,' and 'I think I accidentally taught Emmy how to hack the NSA.'

It was important to head these things off as early as possible.

So when Ward strode into the lab one day, unannounced and looking scarily determined, it was enough to give Jemma serious pause.

(Last time she’d seen that expression on Ward’s face, it had been accompanied by a firm assertion that “no kid should grow up without a dog.”

A week later, her four year old daughter had a dog.

A dog that Jemma and Fitz had specifically forbidden.

Needless to say, Jemma had grown wary of that expression.)

“What if…” Ward began, leaning on the bench next to where Fitz was working, “…we built Emmy a treehouse?”

“Hmm?” Fitz said, only half-listening. Then, as Ward’s words registered, he looked up. “Yes! In the big tree out, um…”

“Out the back.”

“Yeah, the one that Simmons messed up.”

“Mutated,” Jemma corrected indignantly from her side of the lab, “The one that Simmons _mutated_.”

Neither of them seemed to hear her though, as Fitz was frowning into space now, clearly thinking it over. “Yeah, the big freaky one. Hmm.”

“I can _hear you_.”

Fitz was too deep in thought to respond.

“The limbs would definitely be sturdy enough, if we distribute the weight efficiently,” he concluded, looking back up at Ward. “That’s actually a really good idea, Ward.”

“Well, I do have those from time to time.” The boys grinned at each other. “We could go draw up some plans?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. The sooner the better, right?”

Ward’s grin only widened. “Right. I’ll go set up.”

“And _I_ will be right there.”

Jemma just stood there, watching Fitz quickly pack up his workspace with her mouth agape. Did that just…?

Hold on.

“Fitz!”

“Hmm?” he replied distractedly, packing up his tool kit before walking to the door.

“Fitz, you _know_ we’re on a deadline here,” she chided, trailing him out of the lab. “Sam’s grounded until we can solve the fuel problem, and I’ve almost completed the biometrics so I really need you to –”

“– Jemma. It’s fine. We’re just drawing up some plans, yeah? It’s just a quick project.”

She scoffed. “Like hell it is.”

He stopped walking at that, looking at her with an affronted expression. “Uh, yeah, it is.”

“Uh, _no_ , it’s not,” she shot back. “It’s never ‘ _just a quick project.’_ Not with you. Besides, you’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“Like…” _like you’re either going to throw yourself headfirst into some ridiculous project or you’re going to throw the both of us onto a bed._ She swallowed. “Like you’re very… determined.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. “Determined, hey?”

“Yes,” she replied, suddenly defensive. “Why?”

He shrugged, still smirking. _Infuriating man._ “No reason.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“But you were _thinking_ it.”

“That depends.”

“On _what_?”

“On whether ‘it’ means the fact that you find me _completely_ irresistible when I’m super focused on somethi–”

She cut him off with a frustrated groan, slapping at his chest. “I should never have told you about that.”

“But you did,” he responded gleefully, reaching out to grab at her waist. She allowed herself to be pulled in, putting up only a token protest.

“Not – Fitz, I’m serious about this.”

“So am I.” He rubbed his hands up and down her sides slightly in reassurance. “Honestly Jemma, it’s fine. By the time you finish up with the biometrics, I’ll be done with the plans and we can start testing the new fuel cells. This won’t take long at all.” 

“I’m just saying,” she began slowly, tracing over one of his shirt buttons with a finger. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Can’t it wait a little while longer? Just until we’ve finished this project.”

Fitz hesitated for a moment to try to find the words, before he seemed to realise something, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re doing it again,” he accused.

“Doing what?” 

‘You’re using your..." he waved a hand about vaguely, "... your feminine wiles, to manipulate me.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Bullshit you aren’t. Look at you, with your fluttery eyes, and your lip-biting, and your hair thing.”

_Hair thing?_

“Fitz,” she told him seriously. “Believe me. When I’m using my ‘feminine wiles,’ you’ll know.”

Then, after a thoughtful pause, “What I _am_ using is my common sense, however.”

He sighed, suddenly less combative. “Yeah, I know you're right. I just think she needs to be a kid, you know? We need to let her do all the kid stuff she’s missing out on here.”

Jemma looked away at the sudden reminder. The whole situation was truly awful, not to mention completely unfair, but they were doing the best they could. Everyone was chipping in to make sure Emmy had the most normal life possible.

“I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job, all things considered,” she admitted quietly.

“We have,” he reassured her quickly. “I mean. God, Jem. Of course we have. She’s _perfect_ , you know that I fully believe that. I’m just…” he sighed again, ran a hand through his hair. “You know how I worry she’ll miss out on the important stuff, having to grow up on a base.”

She did. She worried about it herself; it was impossible not to.

But it was nowhere near as worrying as the dangers Emmy would be exposed to offbase.

“This just feels like something we _can_ give her, you know?” he continued earnestly. “An experience she doesn’t have to miss out on.”

“A variable we can actually control.”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

She looked up at him in silence for a few moments, absently smoothing out his curls (he’d done quite a number on them with his hand before).

“You know I’ve got nothing against the idea of the treehouse, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“In fact, I’d prefer to be part of the design process myself. I’m just extremely aware that our current project is –”

“– time-sensitive, I know.” He smiled reassuringly. “And that’s why I wouldn’t even do this if it was going to be a long process. It’ll take a few hours at most. Very low-key.”

She chewed on her lower lip, evaluating. “You promise?”

“I _promise._ ”

Jemma stepped reluctantly away from Fitz then, because Ward chose that precise moment to reenter.

‘Fitz, you ready to go? I’m getting everyone to meet us in the situation room.”

“Ah. Everyone. In the _situation room_ ,” Jemma repeated, raising her eyebrows and looking pointedly at Fitz. He winced guiltily, doing that all too endearing one-eyed squint of his. Ward shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what he’d interrupted.

She just sighed. _Pick your battles, Jemma._

“Oh, go on then. Get on with it.”

Grinning widely, Fitz planted a quick kiss on her lips before he and Ward hurried off towards the situation room, chattering away about multiple storeys and staircases and secret passageways and the _coolest treehouse ever_.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick message to Skye.

\--

_Ward and Fitz have got it in their heads to build a treehouse. Any design input?_

_\--_

Her phone buzzed seconds later.

\--

_Tire swing. Non-negotiable._

_\--_

Oh. That was a good idea, actually.

“Fitz?” she called out, hurrying to catch up. He stopped just outside the doorway to the situation room.

“Do you think you might be able to fit a tire swing into the design?”

It was a peace offering, and he knew it. He shot her another big dopey grin, and was just about to respond when Emmy came barrelling in from the direction of the garage, ever-present golden retriever trotting faithfully at her heels.

As always, Fitz tried to brace himself for the inevitable collision.

As always, he was unsuccessful.

He staggered back a few steps as their exuberant 6 year old crashed into his legs, before recovering enough to untangle her and hoist her up onto his hip. She immediately threw her arms around his neck, giving him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. Fitz beamed at her.

“Imogene, I thought you were supposed to be with Mack,” Jemma chastised softly, grabbing Orion’s collar to stop him from jumping onto Fitz as well.

“I am!” Emmy replied, all indignant bluster. “Mack said they need him in the situation room, so we had to come up here." 

Sure enough, Mack came jogging in moments later, relaxing when he saw Emmy with her parents. He then made the mistake of trying to squeeze past Fitz to get into the situation room.

At Jemma’s disapproving glance, he threw his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, don’t look at me. You know I’m not the ideas guy.”

“Mmm, I know. I married the ideas guy.”

“Hey, there’s no need to sound so disappointed,” Fitz protested, following Emmy’s silent instruction to put her back down. “Besides, _technically_ this is Ward’s idea. Maybe you married the _wrong_ ideas guy.”

“Ward probably wouldn’t desert me when we have this much work to do, so maybe I did.”

Fitz’s mouth was hanging open. “You take that back, Jemma Simmons.”

She smirked up at him, the picture of smug innocence. “Or what?”

The heated look she got in return was downright _filthy_.

“Hey, what _is_ going on?” Emmy interjected, stepping between them and tapping Fitz’s leg insistently. “Have we got another mish?”

Tearing her gaze reluctantly from Fitz’s, Jemma found herself smiling at her daughter’s terminology. Definitely Skye’s influence.

“Not –”

“– I sure hope so, munchkin, lest dear Fitzopold here has interrupted me for no real reason.”

Ah. Lance.

_Very low-key, Fitz._

Emmy was scowling up at Lance before he even reached them. “You’re not supposed to call me that. You’re not supposed to call _him_ that. It’s mean.”

“Yeah? Maybe grow a bit taller first, and then we’ll have a chat.”

“My height is well within the statistical average range for girls my age, and you know it.”

“Sorry! Can’t hear you from all the way up here.”

“You can too hear me!”

“Can _not_.”

“Alright, _children_ ,” Fitz cut in, glaring at Lance, “Settle down.”

“Aaand that’s my cue, I believe.” Jemma said, running a hand through Emmy’s hair. She caught Fitz’s eye. “As soon as you’re done, alright?”

“Have I ever let you down before?” He winced. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

Rolling her eyes, she leaned in to brush a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Never when it counted,” she murmured, before turning to leave.

“Wait, are you going back to the lab?” Emmy turned big eyes onto her father. “Dad, can I go with her? _Please_?”

Oh, she was good. Went conveniently straight to the parent most likely to cave to _the eyes_. Emmy was smart – a genius, even – and highly astute, but Jemma had to wonder if this was something the girl had picked up by herself, or if someone else had tipped her off.

(Skye’s cackling whenever this happened seemed to confirm Jemma’s suspicions.)

Poor Fitz turned his helpless gaze to Jemma. “You can ask her yourself, she’s right here.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes at him. _Traitor._

Sure enough, Emmy rounded on her mother then, all wide eyes and imploring expression. (Her daughter was positively _shameless_.)

“Not today, Emmy. Remember? We discussed this last night.”

Her daughter’s face fell, before lighting up again in realisation. She beckoned for Jemma to lean in close.

“Top secret Avengers business, right?” she confirmed in a conspiratorial whisper.

Jemma nodded seriously, biting back a smile.

“Okay,” Emmy leaned back, all business. “I guess I can let it slide.”

Losing the battle, Jemma let a grin creep onto her face. She was only bloody human, after all. “Just this once?”

“Yeah. But only because I get lab time tomorrow, right? All day?” she asked, looking up at her mother hopefully.

Jemma scoffed. “Of course! We’re hardly going to work on the invisibility cloak without you, are we?”

Emmy’s entire face seemed to light up. “Seriously? We’re working on the invisibility cloak?”

The invisibility cloak had been a project they'd been working on with Emmy since the girl had jumped headfirst into her Harry Potter phase. Of course, the technology had already been invented, but Emmy was getting a massive kick out of the process of making the discoveries for herself. 

“We sure are. But only if you’re good for your dad today, alright?”

“I will, I promise! I’ll be the best _ever_!” she cried, voice pitched impressively high.

“Mm, I bet you will. Besides. I think Dad just _might_ have a surprise for you.”

Emmy swung around to face her father, still bouncing with excitement. “Really?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Fitz played along, adopting an exaggeratedly pained expression, “I might have, but that was _before_ you wanted to ditch me and go to the lab.”

“No no no, I want to stay here with you!”

Fitz made a face as though he was seriously deliberating. “Hmm. What do you think, Jem?”

“I don’t know, Fitz. Sounded an awful lot like she was going to ditch you for science.”

“Story of my life,” Fitz muttered under his breath. Jemma snorted.

“I would _never_ ,” Emmy insisted fiercely, looking between her parents.

“Well. _That’s_ a relief,” he continued. “It’d be a shame to have to build a treehouse for nothing, wouldn’t it?” 

And then, they were treated to something truly spectacular: speechless Emmy. The little girl simply stared up at her father for several long moments, eyes wide and mouth agape. She looked to her mother, then back to Fitz.

“Are you serious?” she finally asked him, quiet and very solemn.

“Would I lie to you?” Fitz replied. Emmy looked up at Jemma for double confirmation. Jemma smiled, nodded. That was all it took, it seems; she launched herself at Fitz, instantly being swept up into his arms. Jemma walked back over and laid a hand on Emmy's back, until the girl reached out and pulled Jemma sideways into the hug as well.

“You guys are the best,” Emmy whispered.

Jemma met Fitz's eyes above Emmy's head, and  _wow_ , she didn't think she would ever grow tired of seeing that expression on his face. It was this dazed, awestruck look, as though he'd been hit upside the head and enjoyed every second of it. She'd seen some pretty spectacular expressions on his face over the years, but this was one for the ages.

Judging by the small smile tugging at his lips, her face showed much of the same. 

(She was certainly feeling it, that's for sure.)

They stayed like that for a long while, until: 

“Hey, Dad?” Emmy's voice was slightly muffled against Fitz’s shoulder. She leaned her head back so she could see him.

“Yeah?”

“Can we build a secret passageway? For the treehouse?”

Fitz’s responding smile was positively blinding.

“Way ahead of you, sweetpea. Way ahead of you.” 

Begrudgingly, Jemma extricated herself from the hug. “I _really_ need to get –”

“– back to the lab, yeah,” Fitz finished, smiling fondly at her. She couldn't help but return it. 

“Good luck, Mum!” Emmy called out, cheeks crinkled in a grin that was devastatingly like her father’s.

“Thanks, Em. Be good, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she chirped back, saluting.

Jemma sighed. Having Steve Rogers babysit their daughter had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

As she finally made her exit, Jemma’s back pocket buzzed. Skye again.

\--

_Make sure Coulson doesn’t do any of the heavy lifting. His back’s still screwed. Actually just make sure everyone is careful? That crap is the worst for knees_

\--

Jemma exhaled softly at that. _Why don’t you bloody come home and tell him yourself, Skye?_

(Ward hadn’t been out into the field since the last op he’d been on went sour. No one knew the full details of what had happened; Ward had been surprisingly reticent with details, even for him. All they knew was that they’d had radio silence for a few days, before he’d finally made contact and limped back to base with a severely injured left knee. 

Jemma suspected it was her chatty daughter who'd informed Skye of the development - God only knows she wouldn't accept the news from anyone else by this point.)

\--

_We’re not actually building it today. Maybe you’ll be here when we do?? :)_

\--

She didn’t get a reply to that.

Not that she’d expected one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
